Dear batgirl. Interpret my words anyway you please. But in a court of law, this was not an admission of guilt. So for the record. I am not planning anything now or in the future.
Since youâre not planning anything now or in the future, I assume all your experiments are completely harmless and perfectly legal these days. So how about this? Give me a tour sometime. Iâd love to see your latest totally legal research in person. Iâm sure you wonât mind an unexpected Bat-inspection if everythingâs on the up-and-up.
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Once one has everything they've ever wished for, what do they do with it?
You hear countless tales of idiots who gain all they have ever desired only to become dissatisfied and throw tantrums like children. They risk it all, and gain everything yet have nothing in turn.
I do not have anything. I am not one consumed by childish emotions and attachment. Perhaps, once upon a moon, I had something worthy of adoration, but I was a fool then. I have grown with time, with my strength. Planets will fall, lives will be lost. Sacrifice is imbedded into the souls of the living. We all lose, we all take risks.
But history seems to try and show us that these sacrifices will gain us nothing. Stories of idiots. We all learn from the mistakes of our ancestors, ones who lived and fought before us. I do not need anything but this. No old story and tale that is twisted and told by a fool will stop a Lord.
I will bring order, I will bring safety. I will rise against these fools and I will obliterate any chance of defeat. Will power was once mine, something I was afraid to lose. This will not happen again, I have become more than what I once was. I will not hold a fear that I cannot control. Fear is power. Fear will save you. I will be your savior.
One must suffer beneath the might of the gods before they climb through the cracks and become one themselves.
Look, we can already agree on something: our politicians, and those of many countries in general, are idiotic, liars, corrupt and manipulative. I think it's related to their pursuit of power and how they try to cling to it at all costs.
If I knew more about your planet than whatever surface level nonsense that Jordan spews, perhaps I would agree more on all parts. All I know is they are small and idiotic, and mean nothing.
Do not mistake me for someone who cares about however your pitiful world works. If you all crumble and lead to each other's inevitable demise, I will not bat an eye.
Bat an eye? Câmon, you practically handed me that one. Funny choice of words coming from someone talking to a member of the Batfamily.
Trust me, weâve got plenty of eyes on Earth already. Mine included. So if some self-appointed space dictator decides to make this planet his latest project, one of us is bound to show up.
You sure spend a lot of time writing essays about us for someone who doesnât care. Thatâs a whole lot of words for ânot my problemâ. So maybe you wonât bat an eye⌠but I think you keep one yellow eye on this planet more than youâd like to admit.
It's a saying from my understanding, do words not have double meanings in your language? I thought that would be clear to you. "Batfamily" sounds ridiculous, I do hope you're aware of that.
The only reason I care for your idiotic planet is because It might possibly bring me closer to my inevitable success and power. I'm sure you and your other little humans will try and fight a fight that you will lose, it's almost entertaining to see you care so much about something so meaningless.
I don't expect you to understand my intentions, Batgirl, was it? I watch your planet because you house strong lanterns and powerful beings that could be something more if beneath my thumb. Perhaps I've had history with your Earth and its people, but nothing I care for now. My attachments were lost long ago, my mission is far more important than any pathetic things such as that.
Oh, I know itâs a saying. Doesnât mean Iâm gonna ignore the free joke. And yep, âBatfamilyâ may sound ridiculous to certain people or you. We never claimed to be great at branding.
You keep calling Earth meaningless, yet every other paragraph circles right back to us. Our Lanterns. Our people. Our potential. For a world you insist you donât care about, you seem awfully interested in recruiting it.
Hereâs the thing, Sinestro, was it? The strongest people I know donât become strong because someoneâs standing over them with a ring and a superiority complex. They become strong because they choose to be. So if your grand plan depends on everyone ending up beneath your thumb, maybe your version of âorderâ isnât as inevitable as you think.
Once one has everything they've ever wished for, what do they do with it?
You hear countless tales of idiots who gain all they have ever desired only to become dissatisfied and throw tantrums like children. They risk it all, and gain everything yet have nothing in turn.
I do not have anything. I am not one consumed by childish emotions and attachment. Perhaps, once upon a moon, I had something worthy of adoration, but I was a fool then. I have grown with time, with my strength. Planets will fall, lives will be lost. Sacrifice is imbedded into the souls of the living. We all lose, we all take risks.
But history seems to try and show us that these sacrifices will gain us nothing. Stories of idiots. We all learn from the mistakes of our ancestors, ones who lived and fought before us. I do not need anything but this. No old story and tale that is twisted and told by a fool will stop a Lord.
I will bring order, I will bring safety. I will rise against these fools and I will obliterate any chance of defeat. Will power was once mine, something I was afraid to lose. This will not happen again, I have become more than what I once was. I will not hold a fear that I cannot control. Fear is power. Fear will save you. I will be your savior.
One must suffer beneath the might of the gods before they climb through the cracks and become one themselves.
Look, we can already agree on something: our politicians, and those of many countries in general, are idiotic, liars, corrupt and manipulative. I think it's related to their pursuit of power and how they try to cling to it at all costs.
If I knew more about your planet than whatever surface level nonsense that Jordan spews, perhaps I would agree more on all parts. All I know is they are small and idiotic, and mean nothing.
Do not mistake me for someone who cares about however your pitiful world works. If you all crumble and lead to each other's inevitable demise, I will not bat an eye.
Bat an eye? Câmon, you practically handed me that one. Funny choice of words coming from someone talking to a member of the Batfamily.
Trust me, weâve got plenty of eyes on Earth already. Mine included. So if some self-appointed space dictator decides to make this planet his latest project, one of us is bound to show up.
You sure spend a lot of time writing essays about us for someone who doesnât care. Thatâs a whole lot of words for ânot my problemâ. So maybe you wonât bat an eye⌠but I think you keep one yellow eye on this planet more than youâd like to admit.
Once one has everything they've ever wished for, what do they do with it?
You hear countless tales of idiots who gain all they have ever desired only to become dissatisfied and throw tantrums like children. They risk it all, and gain everything yet have nothing in turn.
I do not have anything. I am not one consumed by childish emotions and attachment. Perhaps, once upon a moon, I had something worthy of adoration, but I was a fool then. I have grown with time, with my strength. Planets will fall, lives will be lost. Sacrifice is imbedded into the souls of the living. We all lose, we all take risks.
But history seems to try and show us that these sacrifices will gain us nothing. Stories of idiots. We all learn from the mistakes of our ancestors, ones who lived and fought before us. I do not need anything but this. No old story and tale that is twisted and told by a fool will stop a Lord.
I will bring order, I will bring safety. I will rise against these fools and I will obliterate any chance of defeat. Will power was once mine, something I was afraid to lose. This will not happen again, I have become more than what I once was. I will not hold a fear that I cannot control. Fear is power. Fear will save you. I will be your savior.
One must suffer beneath the might of the gods before they climb through the cracks and become one themselves.
Look, we can already agree on something: our politicians, and those of many countries in general, are idiotic, liars, corrupt and manipulative. I think it's related to their pursuit of power and how they try to cling to it at all costs.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Once one has everything they've ever wished for, what do they do with it?
You hear countless tales of idiots who gain all they have ever desired only to become dissatisfied and throw tantrums like children. They risk it all, and gain everything yet have nothing in turn.
I do not have anything. I am not one consumed by childish emotions and attachment. Perhaps, once upon a moon, I had something worthy of adoration, but I was a fool then. I have grown with time, with my strength. Planets will fall, lives will be lost. Sacrifice is imbedded into the souls of the living. We all lose, we all take risks.
But history seems to try and show us that these sacrifices will gain us nothing. Stories of idiots. We all learn from the mistakes of our ancestors, ones who lived and fought before us. I do not need anything but this. No old story and tale that is twisted and told by a fool will stop a Lord.
I will bring order, I will bring safety. I will rise against these fools and I will obliterate any chance of defeat. Will power was once mine, something I was afraid to lose. This will not happen again, I have become more than what I once was. I will not hold a fear that I cannot control. Fear is power. Fear will save you. I will be your savior.
One must suffer beneath the might of the gods before they climb through the cracks and become one themselves.
Once one has everything they've ever wished for, what do they do with it?
You hear countless tales of idiots who gain all they have ever desired only to become dissatisfied and throw tantrums like children. They risk it all, and gain everything yet have nothing in turn.
I do not have anything. I am not one consumed by childish emotions and attachment. Perhaps, once upon a moon, I had something worthy of adoration, but I was a fool then. I have grown with time, with my strength. Planets will fall, lives will be lost. Sacrifice is imbedded into the souls of the living. We all lose, we all take risks.
But history seems to try and show us that these sacrifices will gain us nothing. Stories of idiots. We all learn from the mistakes of our ancestors, ones who lived and fought before us. I do not need anything but this. No old story and tale that is twisted and told by a fool will stop a Lord.
I will bring order, I will bring safety. I will rise against these fools and I will obliterate any chance of defeat. Will power was once mine, something I was afraid to lose. This will not happen again, I have become more than what I once was. I will not hold a fear that I cannot control. Fear is power. Fear will save you. I will be your savior.
One must suffer beneath the might of the gods before they climb through the cracks and become one themselves.
Open RP: Metropolis Office W-GBS News Reopening Party
Please, before reacting/responding, read the piece in full as there are several different 'rooms' up, such as: the cocktail hall (this post), the dining room (link), the terrace (link) and the silent auction (link).
PS: Canon characters, OCs and crossover characters may interact with the post. No response length is expected, even just side commentary is fine on this post (some may even just watch arrivals on their tv if they're not attending, for exemple). We won't police anyone's interactions, but maybe make sure you're welcome into a conversation if you hop on existing threads between people. Otherwise, feel free to hop from a location to another as you please, even hold several different conversations with the same character, it's all very free!
GBS News had spared no expense for the event. From the very entrance hall that had been decorated with a backdrop in their colours and with their logo where people were photographed or pulled aside for short interviews, to the burgundy carpet guiding guests straight to the cocktail hall.
The hall's decoration had been kept minimalist and functional, clearly a space made for professional needs first. But the whole thing still managed to look welcoming and tasteful, with a stage at the very rear and a bar with an art deco inspiration on the left, tended by several people of different genders but all wearing the exact same outfit. Black pants held by black suspenders, and a white button up with rolled up sleeves and a black tie. Meanwhile, other people dressed the exact same way except that their sleeves were rolled down and they were long black aprons were going around the room with trays to offer different amuse bouches, prepped to clarify on allergens and ingredients to accomodate dietary restrictions.
Eventually, as people started to fill the room, M. Matthew Matheson appeared on the large stage, beginning his very short address to the guests:
âGood evening everyone. As some of you might know, and others might not, my name is M. Matthew Matheson and I am a News Anchor on W-GBS News, as well as Managing Editor of News Nights. I, I have always taken great pride in the work we did, believing, no, knowing, it was important to inform people, to speak about what was important and to shed lights on issues that should not remain obfuscated. This is what journalism is about right? When I got into this position, I got in with the following mindset: People will want the news if you give it to them with integrity. Not everybody, not even a lot of people, maybe 5%. But a 5% that'll make a difference. Because I believed journalist needed to be reclaimed as an honorable profession. Especially on tv. So we worked, we worked on creating a nightly newscast that informs a debate worthy of a great nation. Civility, respect, and a return to what's important; the death of bitchiness; the death of gossip and voyeurism; the will to speak truth to stupid. No target audience, no demographic, just good work. When GBS News started to climb back on top, to re-establish ourselves and become a national powerhouse, I was terrified. We'd gone well beyond the 5%. But I remember a call with a colleague, an old man named Perry White, some of you might have heard of him, he told me I was idiot, and I said sure, but why? And he responded: where does it say that a good news show or good tv channel can't be popular? And I remember being at loss of words, which, you can ask anyone who knows me, doesn't happen often. Today, GBS News is taking another fresh start, and all I have to say is, let's keep being us, let's keep our honour, and our integrity and our will, and let's do good with the might we've acquired. Let's be great, let's be us. For the people who we've lost doing exactly that and for those who've grown to place their trust in us, to do exactly that. To W-GBS news! And to all the people working here, making it what it is! Now I think I've taken enough of your time, so please help yourself to the food, keep any smoking or God forbid vaping to our terrace, and don't forget to participate to the silent auction! All the funds will be donated Metropolis Brown Library! Thank you very much, this was M. Matthew Matheson who clearly can't wait to be back on tv!"
With those final words, the news anchor disappeared backstage and was soon replaced by a modern jazz quartet. Eventually though, Matheson reappeared amongst the crowd of the cocktail party, ready to make his round.
Cocktail Hall (you are here) | Dining Room | Silent Auction Room | Terrace
I step through the entrance, smile for a couple of photos because thereâs really no escaping that part and then make my way inside. The place looks nice without trying too hard. Clean, classy, expensive. It definitely feels more like a newsroom throwing a party than a party pretending to be a newsroom.
I take a slow lap around the room. Old habit. I like knowing where everything is before I settle anywhere. Stage in the back. Bar off to the left. Staff weaving through the crowd with trays of tiny snacks that somehow look too pretty to eat. One of them offers me a tray and I grab a small bite after making sure thereâs nothing in it thatâll wreck my meal plan. Even at a fancy party, Iâm not about to lose a fight to hidden cream cheese.
I glance toward the stage where the jazz band has already started playing. Itâs good background music. Loud enough to fill the room, quiet enough that people can still talk without yelling over it. The speech sticks with me too. I spend enough nights chasing people who lie for a living to appreciate hearing someone stand up and talk about telling the truth instead. Thatâs worth something.
I smooth a glove over my cape, adjust the cowl just a little and keep walking through the room at an easy pace. Every few steps I recognize another face from TV, newspapers or one of Gothamâs charity galas. Different city, same type of people.
Then my eyes land on the silent auction tables. A fundraiser for a library? Yeah⌠now that gets my attention. I head that way with a grin already creeping onto my face. If somebody expects me to walk past books without stopping, they clearly donât know me very well.
I glance over and notice the two of them looking at the display case. My eyes settle on the antique knife for a second.
âWell⌠thatâs one way to get peopleâs attention at a charity auction.â
I step a little closer, keeping a respectful distance from the glass.
âItâs definitely got some history behind it. Hopefully just the interesting kind. Iâve handled enough sharp objects to know they usually come with stories. The older they are, the stranger those stories tend to get.â
A small grin crosses my face and I fold my arms loosely.
âIâm guessing youâre both trying to decide whether to bid on it or youâre just curious?â
I tilt my head toward the case.
âPersonally, I think Iâd rather admire it from this side of the glass. Makes for a lot less paperwork.â
âYeah, Iâm trying to convince my friend here that she has enough knives at home and that sheâs running out of space to put themâ I say glaring at her
Anne turns towards you and begins to glare before turning back to the intern. âCome on, i can just rent a storage place to put the rest in if it as bad as you sayâ
âThis is Anne, and IâmâŚ.â The intern pauses as he realizes what you just said before turning around to look at you âwait whatâs the bat family doing hereâ
âYou kicked me in the face during my falcone daysâ, Anne thinks winching internally, âyep, Gotham born and raised, though my friend is originally from a place called New York, I donât know where that is unfortunatelyâ
âThat might be it. Iâve stopped by Bat Burger a couple of times over the years, even if Iâm more of a healthy-food person. Patrol burns a lot of calories, but it doesnât magically make burgers a balanced diet.â
I smile at the girl.
âSorry, faces tend to blur together after a while. Gotham keeps me busy.â
I grin at the screen of my phone when I get her answer.
Batwoman, if youâre too old for social media, then half of Gotham needs to delete their accounts.
I shake my head with a laugh.
And Batman⌠Oh, heâs still Batman. Brooding, giving me that âbe carefulâ speech every other patrol, acting like I havenât been doing this for years. I give him a hard time right back. Itâs only fair.
I smirk.
And Iâm doing pretty good, thanks for asking. Busy as always. Gotham never seems to run out of weird, but I guess thatâs what keeps life interesting. What about you?
Twist my arm, why don't you? I'm all too aware of the older Gothamites on websites like Facebook and Twitter, posting corny photos with even cornier captions. I can only hope I'm not going to be posting the same in a few years.
'Be careful.' At least he still tells you that. Last time I checked in I was on some 'three strike' count. It seems these days he tries to control every vigilante, anywhere.
And he's always been controlling, but I wouldn't be surprised if he showed up while I was on some off-world mission to give me a piece of his mind on what I do with 'his' symbol.
It's good that you're good. That's relieving to hear. I'm just investigating more of R.O.C. 's cults and the like. Dad's got some of his men monitoring the sanatorium Beth's in, just to be sure they don't go after her again.
The cult's always been annoying. From stabbing my heart to Alice. Can I be honest for a moment? I don't want them to keep going after my family. But they're anything but able to move on from B.
First of all, if I ever catch you posting a blurry selfie with âLiving my best life đâ on it, you can bet Iâm saving the screenshot.
I make the joke and pause for a second before getting serious.
And yep⌠Batman can be a lot. I love him, but sometimes I think he forgets weâre not recruits anymore.
As for the cult⌠that part just sucks. Nobody should have to keep looking over their shoulder wondering whoâs next. You, Beth, your dad⌠thatâs a lot to carry.
I rest my chin in my hand for a moment.
I get why youâre tired of it. Theyâre obsessed, and people like that donât know when to quit. But you know what? Youâre still here. Every time theyâve tried to break you or your family, youâve gotten back up. That doesnât make any of this okay, but it says something about you.â
And if they think Gothamâs Bat-family is just going to stand around while they come after one of our own, theyâre even crazier than I thought. Can I help you somehow?
And I will not be posting anything like that ever, I hope. If you do see that, just know some alien parasite's taken over, Batgirl.
I love him. Somewhat. Well, obviously, actually. Blood runs thicker than water. Family is family, even if it's a man with less than favourable negative traits mixed in with the good. Like... a very average granola, I suppose. There's good and the bad.
It does suck. Thanks for listening to me, I'm glad I can talk to someone other than off-loading to my father or Bruce, when he's particularly amicable.
They are obsessed. Awfully so, but I guess by now it's nothing I can't handle. As always, I was forged by fire, not anyone in particular. I'll take your words as a compliment, but endurance is something built into me.
Through every military training, through all of my father's training, I was taught to 'soldier up.' And when you serve, you serve for lifeâ even long after you've retired. I'm always ready for a fight, and I won't plan on backing down any time soon. Enough creepy cults can keep bugging me, I'll hold my own.
I think, at least right now, there's not much you can do. You've got your priorities here in Gotham, I have my own. But thanks for offering, Batgirl.
Okay, if I ever see you posting one of those âLive, Laugh, Loveâ quotes, Iâm assuming an alienâs taken over and Iâm coming to rescue you.
And âaverage granolaâ might be my new favorite way to describe Batman.
Iâm really glad you told me all this. I know youâve been taught to keep moving no matter what gets thrown at you, and I know youâre more than capable of handling yourself. But you donât always have to be the strong one. Even people like us deserve to put everything down for a little while.
So how about this? Next time weâre both free, come over and let me cook us lunch or dinner. Nothing complicate, just some good food, a quiet evening, and no masks, no patrols, no cults, and no Batman reminding us to be careful every five minutes.
I think itâd be nice to just hang out for a change. No mission, no agenda. Just two Bat-women sharing a meal and catching up like family. The invitationâs always open. Whenever you need a break, or even if you just feel like eating something that didnât come out of a takeout box, you know where to find me.
That sounds like a dream for either of us. But.. if I ever am free enough to call you, and you come over, that'd be nice. I'll take you up on that offer, sometime, and let's hope it doesn't get interrupted by some crisis.
It would be nice to hang out. I'd like to try your cooking, mine isn't.. the best.
I really appreciate it. And I'll have you know if you ever need me, or if any of you do at the cave, I'll try my best to be available. Working with a team at the Belfryâ even with the Colony, wasn't all so bad.
So.. yeah. Feel free to come over when we're both free. It'd be welcome. As much as being a cape is my life, there should be a balance.
Tell the Bat I say hi. Maybe I should come over to the Manor sometime, too.
Now youâve gone and made it official. You said youâd take me up on it, so Iâm holding you to that. And if a crisis interrupts dinner, weâll just throw the leftovers in the fridge, go save the day and come back to them later. Gotham can wait five more minutes while we reheat dinner.
Iâm really looking forward to it. I like cooking when I get the chance, especially if itâs for family. Actually⌠whatâs your favorite dish? If Iâm inviting you over, I might as well make something you really enjoy. I canât promise itâll be restaurant quality, but I promise itâll be made with a lot more care than anything weâd grab between patrols.
And thanks. It means a lot knowing youâd be there if any of us needed you. I hope it never comes to that, but itâs nice knowing weâve always got each otherâs backs. You should definitely come by the Manor sometime. We all spend so much time running around that we forget weâre allowed to just exist together once in a while.
Iâll tell Batman you said hi. I might even leave out the part where you called him average granola. Depends on how many lectures he gives me before then.
So think about that favorite meal of yours. Youâve officially got a standing invitation and Iâd love to make it for you.
Gotham can wait. That is something more heroes need to take to heart, seriously.
I'm glad you like cooking. I can follow a recipe fine, I enjoy it as I do it but it's not my passion. Not like playing guitar or fighting crime. And my favorite dish? That's a hard question. Nothing in particular, but I like things with lots of flavor, if that helps. Spices.
Of course I'd be there. Even though I can't say I really am there all the timeâ it's more than likely I'm in another country for months at a time, I think of you all as family. Or, well, whatever's closest to it. And we have to keep each-others' backs, even when we tend to be pit against each-other.
I had a feeling youâd give me an answer like that. So⌠lots of flavor and spices. Good to know. Although I should warn you I usually cook pretty light. Lots of veggies, grilled chicken or fish⌠fresh stuff like that. My stomach and really spicy food donât always get along, so I donât go too crazy with the seasoning.
But⌠I can make an exception. If Iâm cooking for you, Iâll happily turn the spice level up a few notches. Iâll just make sure I keep a milder serving for myself.
And guitar over cooking, huh? Fair enough. We all have our thing.
Donât worry about being halfway around the world. Family isnât about being in the same place every day. Itâs knowing that if one of us calls, the others will do everything they can to answer. So I really appreciate you saying that. It goes both ways.
And youâre welcome. I think we could all use a reminder weâre allowed to have dinner together once in a while instead of meeting on rooftops or in the middle of some disaster. And if Gotham behaves itself for just one night, maybe weâll even get to eat it while itâs still hot.
Hey, my stomach and I made a deal a long time ago. I donât push it too hard and it lets me keep running across rooftops. But donât worry, I can still make food with plenty of flavor without setting either of us on fire.
You play in bars? I didnât know that, and thatâs actually really cool! Kinda love the idea of you playing guitar before heading out on patrol! Sounds like a good way to clear your head.
And Iâm looking forward to that dinner too. Iâm just thinking⌠since youâre making this easy by saying youâll eat anything⌠is there actually something you donât like? Any food you absolutely wonât touch? Figure I should probably know before I start planning a menu. You know, Iâd hate to spend an hour cooking only to find out I accidentally picked the one thing you canât stand.
I trust your cooking will be flavourful. No worries here. I imagine you cook for yourself often? I really just get pad Thai typically or order in. I'm still down to hear about what you cool, though.
And I do! Just on the nights when I have time for it. It is something to clear my head, yeah. Do you do anything like that?
Something I won't touch? Eh, fine. Rare enough, but pomegranate isn't my favorite. I doubt you'd be using any though, haha. Thanks for asking. Really, anything's great except anything with pomegranates.
Okay, thatâs actually good to know, because Iâve used pomegranate in salads before. Every now and then Iâll throw some in with spinach, walnuts and feta. But donât worry, Iâll keep the pomegranate far away from your plate.
And yep, I cook for myself when I can. Although weekdays are kind of a mess. Between work and the whole Batgirl stuff, there just arenât enough hours in the day. I usually grab lunch at a little cafĂŠ near my workplace, then Iâll head home later and make myself something simple for dinner before patrol. Nothing fancy. Just healthy food that doesnât take forever.
The weekends are a different story. If I actually get a quieter one, thatâs when I like spending more time in the kitchen. Iâll try a new recipe, bake something or make a proper meal instead of rushing through it. I guess cookingâs one of those things that helps me slow my brain down for a bit. Itâs nice to focus on something that doesnât involve chasing criminals.
As for hobbies⌠to be honest, I donât get nearly enough time for them. You mustâve guessed I read everything I can when I can, and every now and then Iâll find a little time to bake or cook just because I want to, not because I need dinner.
So now Iâm curious. If you get pad Thai all the time, am I gonna have to convince you thereâs life beyond takeout?
Open RP: Metropolis Office W-GBS News Reopening Party
Please, before reacting/responding, read the piece in full as there are several different 'rooms' up, such as: the cocktail hall (this post), the dining room (link), the terrace (link) and the silent auction (link).
PS: Canon characters, OCs and crossover characters may interact with the post. No response length is expected, even just side commentary is fine on this post (some may even just watch arrivals on their tv if they're not attending, for exemple). We won't police anyone's interactions, but maybe make sure you're welcome into a conversation if you hop on existing threads between people. Otherwise, feel free to hop from a location to another as you please, even hold several different conversations with the same character, it's all very free!
GBS News had spared no expense for the event. From the very entrance hall that had been decorated with a backdrop in their colours and with their logo where people were photographed or pulled aside for short interviews, to the burgundy carpet guiding guests straight to the cocktail hall.
The hall's decoration had been kept minimalist and functional, clearly a space made for professional needs first. But the whole thing still managed to look welcoming and tasteful, with a stage at the very rear and a bar with an art deco inspiration on the left, tended by several people of different genders but all wearing the exact same outfit. Black pants held by black suspenders, and a white button up with rolled up sleeves and a black tie. Meanwhile, other people dressed the exact same way except that their sleeves were rolled down and they were long black aprons were going around the room with trays to offer different amuse bouches, prepped to clarify on allergens and ingredients to accomodate dietary restrictions.
Eventually, as people started to fill the room, M. Matthew Matheson appeared on the large stage, beginning his very short address to the guests:
âGood evening everyone. As some of you might know, and others might not, my name is M. Matthew Matheson and I am a News Anchor on W-GBS News, as well as Managing Editor of News Nights. I, I have always taken great pride in the work we did, believing, no, knowing, it was important to inform people, to speak about what was important and to shed lights on issues that should not remain obfuscated. This is what journalism is about right? When I got into this position, I got in with the following mindset: People will want the news if you give it to them with integrity. Not everybody, not even a lot of people, maybe 5%. But a 5% that'll make a difference. Because I believed journalist needed to be reclaimed as an honorable profession. Especially on tv. So we worked, we worked on creating a nightly newscast that informs a debate worthy of a great nation. Civility, respect, and a return to what's important; the death of bitchiness; the death of gossip and voyeurism; the will to speak truth to stupid. No target audience, no demographic, just good work. When GBS News started to climb back on top, to re-establish ourselves and become a national powerhouse, I was terrified. We'd gone well beyond the 5%. But I remember a call with a colleague, an old man named Perry White, some of you might have heard of him, he told me I was idiot, and I said sure, but why? And he responded: where does it say that a good news show or good tv channel can't be popular? And I remember being at loss of words, which, you can ask anyone who knows me, doesn't happen often. Today, GBS News is taking another fresh start, and all I have to say is, let's keep being us, let's keep our honour, and our integrity and our will, and let's do good with the might we've acquired. Let's be great, let's be us. For the people who we've lost doing exactly that and for those who've grown to place their trust in us, to do exactly that. To W-GBS news! And to all the people working here, making it what it is! Now I think I've taken enough of your time, so please help yourself to the food, keep any smoking or God forbid vaping to our terrace, and don't forget to participate to the silent auction! All the funds will be donated Metropolis Brown Library! Thank you very much, this was M. Matthew Matheson who clearly can't wait to be back on tv!"
With those final words, the news anchor disappeared backstage and was soon replaced by a modern jazz quartet. Eventually though, Matheson reappeared amongst the crowd of the cocktail party, ready to make his round.
Cocktail Hall (you are here) | Dining Room | Silent Auction Room | Terrace
I step through the entrance, smile for a couple of photos because thereâs really no escaping that part and then make my way inside. The place looks nice without trying too hard. Clean, classy, expensive. It definitely feels more like a newsroom throwing a party than a party pretending to be a newsroom.
I take a slow lap around the room. Old habit. I like knowing where everything is before I settle anywhere. Stage in the back. Bar off to the left. Staff weaving through the crowd with trays of tiny snacks that somehow look too pretty to eat. One of them offers me a tray and I grab a small bite after making sure thereâs nothing in it thatâll wreck my meal plan. Even at a fancy party, Iâm not about to lose a fight to hidden cream cheese.
I glance toward the stage where the jazz band has already started playing. Itâs good background music. Loud enough to fill the room, quiet enough that people can still talk without yelling over it. The speech sticks with me too. I spend enough nights chasing people who lie for a living to appreciate hearing someone stand up and talk about telling the truth instead. Thatâs worth something.
I smooth a glove over my cape, adjust the cowl just a little and keep walking through the room at an easy pace. Every few steps I recognize another face from TV, newspapers or one of Gothamâs charity galas. Different city, same type of people.
Then my eyes land on the silent auction tables. A fundraiser for a library? Yeah⌠now that gets my attention. I head that way with a grin already creeping onto my face. If somebody expects me to walk past books without stopping, they clearly donât know me very well.
I glance over and notice the two of them looking at the display case. My eyes settle on the antique knife for a second.
âWell⌠thatâs one way to get peopleâs attention at a charity auction.â
I step a little closer, keeping a respectful distance from the glass.
âItâs definitely got some history behind it. Hopefully just the interesting kind. Iâve handled enough sharp objects to know they usually come with stories. The older they are, the stranger those stories tend to get.â
A small grin crosses my face and I fold my arms loosely.
âIâm guessing youâre both trying to decide whether to bid on it or youâre just curious?â
I tilt my head toward the case.
âPersonally, I think Iâd rather admire it from this side of the glass. Makes for a lot less paperwork.â
âYeah, Iâm trying to convince my friend here that she has enough knives at home and that sheâs running out of space to put themâ I say glaring at her
Anne turns towards you and begins to glare before turning back to the intern. âCome on, i can just rent a storage place to put the rest in if it as bad as you sayâ
âThis is Anne, and IâmâŚ.â The intern pauses as he realizes what you just said before turning around to look at you âwait whatâs the bat family doing hereâ
âYou kicked me in the face during my falcone daysâ, Anne thinks winching internally, âyep, Gotham born and raised, though my friend is originally from a place called New York, I donât know where that is unfortunatelyâ
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Open RP: Metropolis Office W-GBS News Reopening Party
Please, before reacting/responding, read the piece in full as there are several different 'rooms' up, such as: the cocktail hall (this post), the dining room (link), the terrace (link) and the silent auction (link).
PS: Canon characters, OCs and crossover characters may interact with the post. No response length is expected, even just side commentary is fine on this post (some may even just watch arrivals on their tv if they're not attending, for exemple). We won't police anyone's interactions, but maybe make sure you're welcome into a conversation if you hop on existing threads between people. Otherwise, feel free to hop from a location to another as you please, even hold several different conversations with the same character, it's all very free!
GBS News had spared no expense for the event. From the very entrance hall that had been decorated with a backdrop in their colours and with their logo where people were photographed or pulled aside for short interviews, to the burgundy carpet guiding guests straight to the cocktail hall.
The hall's decoration had been kept minimalist and functional, clearly a space made for professional needs first. But the whole thing still managed to look welcoming and tasteful, with a stage at the very rear and a bar with an art deco inspiration on the left, tended by several people of different genders but all wearing the exact same outfit. Black pants held by black suspenders, and a white button up with rolled up sleeves and a black tie. Meanwhile, other people dressed the exact same way except that their sleeves were rolled down and they were long black aprons were going around the room with trays to offer different amuse bouches, prepped to clarify on allergens and ingredients to accomodate dietary restrictions.
Eventually, as people started to fill the room, M. Matthew Matheson appeared on the large stage, beginning his very short address to the guests:
âGood evening everyone. As some of you might know, and others might not, my name is M. Matthew Matheson and I am a News Anchor on W-GBS News, as well as Managing Editor of News Nights. I, I have always taken great pride in the work we did, believing, no, knowing, it was important to inform people, to speak about what was important and to shed lights on issues that should not remain obfuscated. This is what journalism is about right? When I got into this position, I got in with the following mindset: People will want the news if you give it to them with integrity. Not everybody, not even a lot of people, maybe 5%. But a 5% that'll make a difference. Because I believed journalist needed to be reclaimed as an honorable profession. Especially on tv. So we worked, we worked on creating a nightly newscast that informs a debate worthy of a great nation. Civility, respect, and a return to what's important; the death of bitchiness; the death of gossip and voyeurism; the will to speak truth to stupid. No target audience, no demographic, just good work. When GBS News started to climb back on top, to re-establish ourselves and become a national powerhouse, I was terrified. We'd gone well beyond the 5%. But I remember a call with a colleague, an old man named Perry White, some of you might have heard of him, he told me I was idiot, and I said sure, but why? And he responded: where does it say that a good news show or good tv channel can't be popular? And I remember being at loss of words, which, you can ask anyone who knows me, doesn't happen often. Today, GBS News is taking another fresh start, and all I have to say is, let's keep being us, let's keep our honour, and our integrity and our will, and let's do good with the might we've acquired. Let's be great, let's be us. For the people who we've lost doing exactly that and for those who've grown to place their trust in us, to do exactly that. To W-GBS news! And to all the people working here, making it what it is! Now I think I've taken enough of your time, so please help yourself to the food, keep any smoking or God forbid vaping to our terrace, and don't forget to participate to the silent auction! All the funds will be donated Metropolis Brown Library! Thank you very much, this was M. Matthew Matheson who clearly can't wait to be back on tv!"
With those final words, the news anchor disappeared backstage and was soon replaced by a modern jazz quartet. Eventually though, Matheson reappeared amongst the crowd of the cocktail party, ready to make his round.
Cocktail Hall (you are here) | Dining Room | Silent Auction Room | Terrace
I step through the entrance, smile for a couple of photos because thereâs really no escaping that part and then make my way inside. The place looks nice without trying too hard. Clean, classy, expensive. It definitely feels more like a newsroom throwing a party than a party pretending to be a newsroom.
I take a slow lap around the room. Old habit. I like knowing where everything is before I settle anywhere. Stage in the back. Bar off to the left. Staff weaving through the crowd with trays of tiny snacks that somehow look too pretty to eat. One of them offers me a tray and I grab a small bite after making sure thereâs nothing in it thatâll wreck my meal plan. Even at a fancy party, Iâm not about to lose a fight to hidden cream cheese.
I glance toward the stage where the jazz band has already started playing. Itâs good background music. Loud enough to fill the room, quiet enough that people can still talk without yelling over it. The speech sticks with me too. I spend enough nights chasing people who lie for a living to appreciate hearing someone stand up and talk about telling the truth instead. Thatâs worth something.
I smooth a glove over my cape, adjust the cowl just a little and keep walking through the room at an easy pace. Every few steps I recognize another face from TV, newspapers or one of Gothamâs charity galas. Different city, same type of people.
Then my eyes land on the silent auction tables. A fundraiser for a library? Yeah⌠now that gets my attention. I head that way with a grin already creeping onto my face. If somebody expects me to walk past books without stopping, they clearly donât know me very well.
I glance over and notice the two of them looking at the display case. My eyes settle on the antique knife for a second.
âWell⌠thatâs one way to get peopleâs attention at a charity auction.â
I step a little closer, keeping a respectful distance from the glass.
âItâs definitely got some history behind it. Hopefully just the interesting kind. Iâve handled enough sharp objects to know they usually come with stories. The older they are, the stranger those stories tend to get.â
A small grin crosses my face and I fold my arms loosely.
âIâm guessing youâre both trying to decide whether to bid on it or youâre just curious?â
I tilt my head toward the case.
âPersonally, I think Iâd rather admire it from this side of the glass. Makes for a lot less paperwork.â
âYeah, Iâm trying to convince my friend here that she has enough knives at home and that sheâs running out of space to put themâ I say glaring at her
Anne turns towards you and begins to glare before turning back to the intern. âCome on, i can just rent a storage place to put the rest in if it as bad as you sayâ
âThis is Anne, and IâmâŚ.â The intern pauses as he realizes what you just said before turning around to look at you âwait whatâs the bat family doing hereâ
"Do you know that I'm being physically experimented on and mentally tortured by every single person of authority and therapists in this place? The warden's been doing this ever since you locked me up in here." Grodd would say to her telepathically through the glass that kept him contained and separated. The large ape was bound against the wall and hanging upside down. He seemed pretty docile and was drooling but it was a ruse so that he'd be left along from the guards who would beat him. "Why don't you do something about it before I end up nothing but a docile ape." Clearly the ape was desperate as he had been subjected to quite the round of experiments. "I can show you proof. You'll just have to come again but without the guards watching you or I."
I keep my expression steady as I stand in front of the glass, letting none of the alarm or skepticism show on my face. Inside my mind, I tighten my focus, reinforcing the mental barriers Iâve trained for exactly this kind of contact. I donât accept what Iâm being told at face value. Not from him.
âIf what youâre saying is true, then thereâll be records. Logs. Medical documentation. Chain-of-custody reports for every procedure youâre describing.â
I think back carefully, keeping my tone controlled and deliberately non-reactive I shift my stance slightly, eyes flicking over the restraints, the guardsâ positions, the cameras in the room. Everything is being recorded here. Everything always is. Thatâs the first thing I rely on.
âIâm not coming in here alone and Iâm not removing oversight because you ask me to. If thereâs abuse happening, it gets exposed through independent review. Not private conversations behind closed doors.â
I continue firmly, letting the boundary settle between us like a locked door. I pause just long enough to let that land. Then I add quieter, sharper.
âAnd if this is an attempt to isolate me or manipulate the situation, it wonât work.â
I donât break eye contact. I donât step closer. I simply watch, listen, and start mentally compiling the next set of checks Iâm going to run on the facilityâs recordsâbecause either thereâs evidence that needs uncovering, or Iâm being led into a trap designed to look like one.
"Batgirl!" A voice would yell out to her before she would see a guard run up to her. "Quick! You gotta stop him!" He'd begin to say. "He's gone crazy! It's Grodd!" The guard would say as he'd then begin to gesture her to follow. "Cone on!" He'd say before he would then begin to run off towards the direction of the courtyard. "I don't know what happened but he just went nuts. We tried to restrain him but I think he's trying to escape." He'd say before he would then lead her through to the courtyard where there were a bunch of guards on the ground and no Grodd. Seems like the ape had escaped...
But why? That was the question. Most likely Lawrence's work...
I stop dead when I see the courtyard: guards down and no Grodd. I swear under my breath.
âNoâŚâ
This doesnât feel right. An hour ago he was exhausted, barely able to walk. Now Iâm supposed to believe he suddenly fought his way through a yard full of guards? I donât buy it. I crouch beside the nearest guard, checking them over as I scan the area for tracks, broken restraints⌠anything.
âTell me exactly what happened.â
My eyes sweep the walls and every possible exit. Because right now, Iâm not convinced this was an escape. Iâm starting to think someone wanted it to look like one.
The guard that had lead her out to the courtyard would begin to explain. "We brought him out like usual. He usually just likes to get some sun but it wasn't even like five minutes before he went crazy! He broke his restraints and we tried to stop him but he was just so strong..." He'd say as he'd shake his head. "He ran off. You can see his tracks there." He pointed out to Grodd's large barefoot imprints. "He climbed up the wall." Another guard says. "That damn monkey almost killed me!" He'd say frustrated. "When you get em Batgirl, give em a punch for me will ya?" The guard would say as the other would then tell him. "Help the others up." He'd say before he would then turn to Batgirl.
I crouch beside one of the footprints for a second, studying it. Something still doesnât add up. I stand and look at the wall.
âNobodyâs punching anybody until I know what happened.â
I glance at the guards.
âAn hour ago he could barely keep his eyes open.â
I shake my head.
âThat kind of change doesnât happen for no reason.â
I fire my grapple toward the top of the wall.
âIâm going after him.â
I look back one last time.
âAnd nobody goes near Lawrence Whittaker.â
I donât wait for an answer. A second later Iâm over the wall, following the trail as fast as I can. If Grodd really lost control, I need to stop him. If somebody made him lose control⌠then Iâm about to find out who.
Grodd's large footprints were easy to follow. It was like the ape was on a mindless rampage. Clearly, someone had done something to the ape to make him want to escape, most likely Lawrence's doing. Making his way through the streets, the ape would crack the road below him with each jump and step he'd land. Huffing, groaning and breathing heavily the gorilla would then find himself staring off into the distance before he would bring a hand up to his head as he would groan loudly as a sharp pain hit his head. His veins on his forehead bulging slightly. It was the perfect moment for Batgirl to get close since he had stopped...
I slow down instead of charging straight at him. Heâs stopped. Good. I keep my hands where he can see them.
âGrodd⌠Iâm here.â
My voice stays calm. I donât move any closer yet. I watch the way heâs holding his head: the pain, the way heâs fighting something⌠Lawrence. It has to be.
âYou donât need to run. Whatever he did to you, weâre going to figure it out.â
I take one careful step forward and keep my eyes on him.
âFight him. Not me.â
I tap the side of my own head and stay ready in case he lashes out, but I donât reach for a weapon. Right now, I need him thinking and not fighting.
Open RP: Metropolis Office W-GBS News Reopening Party
Please, before reacting/responding, read the piece in full as there are several different 'rooms' up, such as: the cocktail hall (this post), the dining room (link), the terrace (link) and the silent auction (link).
PS: Canon characters, OCs and crossover characters may interact with the post. No response length is expected, even just side commentary is fine on this post (some may even just watch arrivals on their tv if they're not attending, for exemple). We won't police anyone's interactions, but maybe make sure you're welcome into a conversation if you hop on existing threads between people. Otherwise, feel free to hop from a location to another as you please, even hold several different conversations with the same character, it's all very free!
GBS News had spared no expense for the event. From the very entrance hall that had been decorated with a backdrop in their colours and with their logo where people were photographed or pulled aside for short interviews, to the burgundy carpet guiding guests straight to the cocktail hall.
The hall's decoration had been kept minimalist and functional, clearly a space made for professional needs first. But the whole thing still managed to look welcoming and tasteful, with a stage at the very rear and a bar with an art deco inspiration on the left, tended by several people of different genders but all wearing the exact same outfit. Black pants held by black suspenders, and a white button up with rolled up sleeves and a black tie. Meanwhile, other people dressed the exact same way except that their sleeves were rolled down and they were long black aprons were going around the room with trays to offer different amuse bouches, prepped to clarify on allergens and ingredients to accomodate dietary restrictions.
Eventually, as people started to fill the room, M. Matthew Matheson appeared on the large stage, beginning his very short address to the guests:
âGood evening everyone. As some of you might know, and others might not, my name is M. Matthew Matheson and I am a News Anchor on W-GBS News, as well as Managing Editor of News Nights. I, I have always taken great pride in the work we did, believing, no, knowing, it was important to inform people, to speak about what was important and to shed lights on issues that should not remain obfuscated. This is what journalism is about right? When I got into this position, I got in with the following mindset: People will want the news if you give it to them with integrity. Not everybody, not even a lot of people, maybe 5%. But a 5% that'll make a difference. Because I believed journalist needed to be reclaimed as an honorable profession. Especially on tv. So we worked, we worked on creating a nightly newscast that informs a debate worthy of a great nation. Civility, respect, and a return to what's important; the death of bitchiness; the death of gossip and voyeurism; the will to speak truth to stupid. No target audience, no demographic, just good work. When GBS News started to climb back on top, to re-establish ourselves and become a national powerhouse, I was terrified. We'd gone well beyond the 5%. But I remember a call with a colleague, an old man named Perry White, some of you might have heard of him, he told me I was idiot, and I said sure, but why? And he responded: where does it say that a good news show or good tv channel can't be popular? And I remember being at loss of words, which, you can ask anyone who knows me, doesn't happen often. Today, GBS News is taking another fresh start, and all I have to say is, let's keep being us, let's keep our honour, and our integrity and our will, and let's do good with the might we've acquired. Let's be great, let's be us. For the people who we've lost doing exactly that and for those who've grown to place their trust in us, to do exactly that. To W-GBS news! And to all the people working here, making it what it is! Now I think I've taken enough of your time, so please help yourself to the food, keep any smoking or God forbid vaping to our terrace, and don't forget to participate to the silent auction! All the funds will be donated Metropolis Brown Library! Thank you very much, this was M. Matthew Matheson who clearly can't wait to be back on tv!"
With those final words, the news anchor disappeared backstage and was soon replaced by a modern jazz quartet. Eventually though, Matheson reappeared amongst the crowd of the cocktail party, ready to make his round.
Cocktail Hall (you are here) | Dining Room | Silent Auction Room | Terrace
I step through the entrance, smile for a couple of photos because thereâs really no escaping that part and then make my way inside. The place looks nice without trying too hard. Clean, classy, expensive. It definitely feels more like a newsroom throwing a party than a party pretending to be a newsroom.
I take a slow lap around the room. Old habit. I like knowing where everything is before I settle anywhere. Stage in the back. Bar off to the left. Staff weaving through the crowd with trays of tiny snacks that somehow look too pretty to eat. One of them offers me a tray and I grab a small bite after making sure thereâs nothing in it thatâll wreck my meal plan. Even at a fancy party, Iâm not about to lose a fight to hidden cream cheese.
I glance toward the stage where the jazz band has already started playing. Itâs good background music. Loud enough to fill the room, quiet enough that people can still talk without yelling over it. The speech sticks with me too. I spend enough nights chasing people who lie for a living to appreciate hearing someone stand up and talk about telling the truth instead. Thatâs worth something.
I smooth a glove over my cape, adjust the cowl just a little and keep walking through the room at an easy pace. Every few steps I recognize another face from TV, newspapers or one of Gothamâs charity galas. Different city, same type of people.
Then my eyes land on the silent auction tables. A fundraiser for a library? Yeah⌠now that gets my attention. I head that way with a grin already creeping onto my face. If somebody expects me to walk past books without stopping, they clearly donât know me very well.
I glance over and notice the two of them looking at the display case. My eyes settle on the antique knife for a second.
âWell⌠thatâs one way to get peopleâs attention at a charity auction.â
I step a little closer, keeping a respectful distance from the glass.
âItâs definitely got some history behind it. Hopefully just the interesting kind. Iâve handled enough sharp objects to know they usually come with stories. The older they are, the stranger those stories tend to get.â
A small grin crosses my face and I fold my arms loosely.
âIâm guessing youâre both trying to decide whether to bid on it or youâre just curious?â
I tilt my head toward the case.
âPersonally, I think Iâd rather admire it from this side of the glass. Makes for a lot less paperwork.â
âYeah, Iâm trying to convince my friend here that she has enough knives at home and that sheâs running out of space to put themâ I say glaring at her
Anne turns towards you and begins to glare before turning back to the intern. âCome on, i can just rent a storage place to put the rest in if it as bad as you sayâ
I grin at the screen of my phone when I get her answer.
Batwoman, if youâre too old for social media, then half of Gotham needs to delete their accounts.
I shake my head with a laugh.
And Batman⌠Oh, heâs still Batman. Brooding, giving me that âbe carefulâ speech every other patrol, acting like I havenât been doing this for years. I give him a hard time right back. Itâs only fair.
I smirk.
And Iâm doing pretty good, thanks for asking. Busy as always. Gotham never seems to run out of weird, but I guess thatâs what keeps life interesting. What about you?
Twist my arm, why don't you? I'm all too aware of the older Gothamites on websites like Facebook and Twitter, posting corny photos with even cornier captions. I can only hope I'm not going to be posting the same in a few years.
'Be careful.' At least he still tells you that. Last time I checked in I was on some 'three strike' count. It seems these days he tries to control every vigilante, anywhere.
And he's always been controlling, but I wouldn't be surprised if he showed up while I was on some off-world mission to give me a piece of his mind on what I do with 'his' symbol.
It's good that you're good. That's relieving to hear. I'm just investigating more of R.O.C. 's cults and the like. Dad's got some of his men monitoring the sanatorium Beth's in, just to be sure they don't go after her again.
The cult's always been annoying. From stabbing my heart to Alice. Can I be honest for a moment? I don't want them to keep going after my family. But they're anything but able to move on from B.
First of all, if I ever catch you posting a blurry selfie with âLiving my best life đâ on it, you can bet Iâm saving the screenshot.
I make the joke and pause for a second before getting serious.
And yep⌠Batman can be a lot. I love him, but sometimes I think he forgets weâre not recruits anymore.
As for the cult⌠that part just sucks. Nobody should have to keep looking over their shoulder wondering whoâs next. You, Beth, your dad⌠thatâs a lot to carry.
I rest my chin in my hand for a moment.
I get why youâre tired of it. Theyâre obsessed, and people like that donât know when to quit. But you know what? Youâre still here. Every time theyâve tried to break you or your family, youâve gotten back up. That doesnât make any of this okay, but it says something about you.â
And if they think Gothamâs Bat-family is just going to stand around while they come after one of our own, theyâre even crazier than I thought. Can I help you somehow?
And I will not be posting anything like that ever, I hope. If you do see that, just know some alien parasite's taken over, Batgirl.
I love him. Somewhat. Well, obviously, actually. Blood runs thicker than water. Family is family, even if it's a man with less than favourable negative traits mixed in with the good. Like... a very average granola, I suppose. There's good and the bad.
It does suck. Thanks for listening to me, I'm glad I can talk to someone other than off-loading to my father or Bruce, when he's particularly amicable.
They are obsessed. Awfully so, but I guess by now it's nothing I can't handle. As always, I was forged by fire, not anyone in particular. I'll take your words as a compliment, but endurance is something built into me.
Through every military training, through all of my father's training, I was taught to 'soldier up.' And when you serve, you serve for lifeâ even long after you've retired. I'm always ready for a fight, and I won't plan on backing down any time soon. Enough creepy cults can keep bugging me, I'll hold my own.
I think, at least right now, there's not much you can do. You've got your priorities here in Gotham, I have my own. But thanks for offering, Batgirl.
Okay, if I ever see you posting one of those âLive, Laugh, Loveâ quotes, Iâm assuming an alienâs taken over and Iâm coming to rescue you.
And âaverage granolaâ might be my new favorite way to describe Batman.
Iâm really glad you told me all this. I know youâve been taught to keep moving no matter what gets thrown at you, and I know youâre more than capable of handling yourself. But you donât always have to be the strong one. Even people like us deserve to put everything down for a little while.
So how about this? Next time weâre both free, come over and let me cook us lunch or dinner. Nothing complicate, just some good food, a quiet evening, and no masks, no patrols, no cults, and no Batman reminding us to be careful every five minutes.
I think itâd be nice to just hang out for a change. No mission, no agenda. Just two Bat-women sharing a meal and catching up like family. The invitationâs always open. Whenever you need a break, or even if you just feel like eating something that didnât come out of a takeout box, you know where to find me.
That sounds like a dream for either of us. But.. if I ever am free enough to call you, and you come over, that'd be nice. I'll take you up on that offer, sometime, and let's hope it doesn't get interrupted by some crisis.
It would be nice to hang out. I'd like to try your cooking, mine isn't.. the best.
I really appreciate it. And I'll have you know if you ever need me, or if any of you do at the cave, I'll try my best to be available. Working with a team at the Belfryâ even with the Colony, wasn't all so bad.
So.. yeah. Feel free to come over when we're both free. It'd be welcome. As much as being a cape is my life, there should be a balance.
Tell the Bat I say hi. Maybe I should come over to the Manor sometime, too.
Now youâve gone and made it official. You said youâd take me up on it, so Iâm holding you to that. And if a crisis interrupts dinner, weâll just throw the leftovers in the fridge, go save the day and come back to them later. Gotham can wait five more minutes while we reheat dinner.
Iâm really looking forward to it. I like cooking when I get the chance, especially if itâs for family. Actually⌠whatâs your favorite dish? If Iâm inviting you over, I might as well make something you really enjoy. I canât promise itâll be restaurant quality, but I promise itâll be made with a lot more care than anything weâd grab between patrols.
And thanks. It means a lot knowing youâd be there if any of us needed you. I hope it never comes to that, but itâs nice knowing weâve always got each otherâs backs. You should definitely come by the Manor sometime. We all spend so much time running around that we forget weâre allowed to just exist together once in a while.
Iâll tell Batman you said hi. I might even leave out the part where you called him average granola. Depends on how many lectures he gives me before then.
So think about that favorite meal of yours. Youâve officially got a standing invitation and Iâd love to make it for you.
Gotham can wait. That is something more heroes need to take to heart, seriously.
I'm glad you like cooking. I can follow a recipe fine, I enjoy it as I do it but it's not my passion. Not like playing guitar or fighting crime. And my favorite dish? That's a hard question. Nothing in particular, but I like things with lots of flavor, if that helps. Spices.
Of course I'd be there. Even though I can't say I really am there all the timeâ it's more than likely I'm in another country for months at a time, I think of you all as family. Or, well, whatever's closest to it. And we have to keep each-others' backs, even when we tend to be pit against each-other.
I had a feeling youâd give me an answer like that. So⌠lots of flavor and spices. Good to know. Although I should warn you I usually cook pretty light. Lots of veggies, grilled chicken or fish⌠fresh stuff like that. My stomach and really spicy food donât always get along, so I donât go too crazy with the seasoning.
But⌠I can make an exception. If Iâm cooking for you, Iâll happily turn the spice level up a few notches. Iâll just make sure I keep a milder serving for myself.
And guitar over cooking, huh? Fair enough. We all have our thing.
Donât worry about being halfway around the world. Family isnât about being in the same place every day. Itâs knowing that if one of us calls, the others will do everything they can to answer. So I really appreciate you saying that. It goes both ways.
And youâre welcome. I think we could all use a reminder weâre allowed to have dinner together once in a while instead of meeting on rooftops or in the middle of some disaster. And if Gotham behaves itself for just one night, maybe weâll even get to eat it while itâs still hot.
Hey, my stomach and I made a deal a long time ago. I donât push it too hard and it lets me keep running across rooftops. But donât worry, I can still make food with plenty of flavor without setting either of us on fire.
You play in bars? I didnât know that, and thatâs actually really cool! Kinda love the idea of you playing guitar before heading out on patrol! Sounds like a good way to clear your head.
And Iâm looking forward to that dinner too. Iâm just thinking⌠since youâre making this easy by saying youâll eat anything⌠is there actually something you donât like? Any food you absolutely wonât touch? Figure I should probably know before I start planning a menu. You know, Iâd hate to spend an hour cooking only to find out I accidentally picked the one thing you canât stand.
Open RP: Metropolis Office W-GBS News Reopening Party
Please, before reacting/responding, read the piece in full as there are several different 'rooms' up, such as: the cocktail hall (this post), the dining room (link), the terrace (link) and the silent auction (link).
PS: Canon characters, OCs and crossover characters may interact with the post. No response length is expected, even just side commentary is fine on this post (some may even just watch arrivals on their tv if they're not attending, for exemple). We won't police anyone's interactions, but maybe make sure you're welcome into a conversation if you hop on existing threads between people. Otherwise, feel free to hop from a location to another as you please, even hold several different conversations with the same character, it's all very free!
GBS News had spared no expense for the event. From the very entrance hall that had been decorated with a backdrop in their colours and with their logo where people were photographed or pulled aside for short interviews, to the burgundy carpet guiding guests straight to the cocktail hall.
The hall's decoration had been kept minimalist and functional, clearly a space made for professional needs first. But the whole thing still managed to look welcoming and tasteful, with a stage at the very rear and a bar with an art deco inspiration on the left, tended by several people of different genders but all wearing the exact same outfit. Black pants held by black suspenders, and a white button up with rolled up sleeves and a black tie. Meanwhile, other people dressed the exact same way except that their sleeves were rolled down and they were long black aprons were going around the room with trays to offer different amuse bouches, prepped to clarify on allergens and ingredients to accomodate dietary restrictions.
Eventually, as people started to fill the room, M. Matthew Matheson appeared on the large stage, beginning his very short address to the guests:
âGood evening everyone. As some of you might know, and others might not, my name is M. Matthew Matheson and I am a News Anchor on W-GBS News, as well as Managing Editor of News Nights. I, I have always taken great pride in the work we did, believing, no, knowing, it was important to inform people, to speak about what was important and to shed lights on issues that should not remain obfuscated. This is what journalism is about right? When I got into this position, I got in with the following mindset: People will want the news if you give it to them with integrity. Not everybody, not even a lot of people, maybe 5%. But a 5% that'll make a difference. Because I believed journalist needed to be reclaimed as an honorable profession. Especially on tv. So we worked, we worked on creating a nightly newscast that informs a debate worthy of a great nation. Civility, respect, and a return to what's important; the death of bitchiness; the death of gossip and voyeurism; the will to speak truth to stupid. No target audience, no demographic, just good work. When GBS News started to climb back on top, to re-establish ourselves and become a national powerhouse, I was terrified. We'd gone well beyond the 5%. But I remember a call with a colleague, an old man named Perry White, some of you might have heard of him, he told me I was idiot, and I said sure, but why? And he responded: where does it say that a good news show or good tv channel can't be popular? And I remember being at loss of words, which, you can ask anyone who knows me, doesn't happen often. Today, GBS News is taking another fresh start, and all I have to say is, let's keep being us, let's keep our honour, and our integrity and our will, and let's do good with the might we've acquired. Let's be great, let's be us. For the people who we've lost doing exactly that and for those who've grown to place their trust in us, to do exactly that. To W-GBS news! And to all the people working here, making it what it is! Now I think I've taken enough of your time, so please help yourself to the food, keep any smoking or God forbid vaping to our terrace, and don't forget to participate to the silent auction! All the funds will be donated Metropolis Brown Library! Thank you very much, this was M. Matthew Matheson who clearly can't wait to be back on tv!"
With those final words, the news anchor disappeared backstage and was soon replaced by a modern jazz quartet. Eventually though, Matheson reappeared amongst the crowd of the cocktail party, ready to make his round.
Cocktail Hall (you are here) | Dining Room | Silent Auction Room | Terrace
I step through the entrance, smile for a couple of photos because thereâs really no escaping that part and then make my way inside. The place looks nice without trying too hard. Clean, classy, expensive. It definitely feels more like a newsroom throwing a party than a party pretending to be a newsroom.
I take a slow lap around the room. Old habit. I like knowing where everything is before I settle anywhere. Stage in the back. Bar off to the left. Staff weaving through the crowd with trays of tiny snacks that somehow look too pretty to eat. One of them offers me a tray and I grab a small bite after making sure thereâs nothing in it thatâll wreck my meal plan. Even at a fancy party, Iâm not about to lose a fight to hidden cream cheese.
I glance toward the stage where the jazz band has already started playing. Itâs good background music. Loud enough to fill the room, quiet enough that people can still talk without yelling over it. The speech sticks with me too. I spend enough nights chasing people who lie for a living to appreciate hearing someone stand up and talk about telling the truth instead. Thatâs worth something.
I smooth a glove over my cape, adjust the cowl just a little and keep walking through the room at an easy pace. Every few steps I recognize another face from TV, newspapers or one of Gothamâs charity galas. Different city, same type of people.
Then my eyes land on the silent auction tables. A fundraiser for a library? Yeah⌠now that gets my attention. I head that way with a grin already creeping onto my face. If somebody expects me to walk past books without stopping, they clearly donât know me very well.
I glance over and notice the two of them looking at the display case. My eyes settle on the antique knife for a second.
âWell⌠thatâs one way to get peopleâs attention at a charity auction.â
I step a little closer, keeping a respectful distance from the glass.
âItâs definitely got some history behind it. Hopefully just the interesting kind. Iâve handled enough sharp objects to know they usually come with stories. The older they are, the stranger those stories tend to get.â
A small grin crosses my face and I fold my arms loosely.
âIâm guessing youâre both trying to decide whether to bid on it or youâre just curious?â
I tilt my head toward the case.
âPersonally, I think Iâd rather admire it from this side of the glass. Makes for a lot less paperwork.â
âYeah, Iâm trying to convince my friend here that she has enough knives at home and that sheâs running out of space to put themâ I say glaring at her
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(Dragon Booster!Sonari) Someone had started speeding through Gotham at about 80mph. However, the culprit wasn't a person in a car. She was a flightless, aquamarine dragon about as tall as a horse. She weaved around traffic as if it was a normal jog.
I catch sight of the aquamarine dragon weaving through Gotham traffic at impossible speed. Sheâs moving close to eighty miles per hour, dodging cars as naturally as if she were jogging through an open field. I fire my grapnel and swing after her. From above, I watch her dart through intersections and slip between vehicles without causing a single crash. Strange. Someone moving that fast should be leaving chaos behind. I land on a rooftop and sprint along the edge, keeping pace as best I can.
Luckily for Batgirl, XANA!Sonari tripped over a discarded cardboard box in their effort to pursue her. Ground level was far from safe but Sonari couldn't reach the rooftops. XANA!Sonari didn't seem to pay attention to the sparse few pedestrians that chanced upon this altercation; as if XANA was too fixated on Batgirl to notice. Their blind rage could be taken advantage of.
The second she stumbles, I spot an opening. I donât waste it. I sprint for a nearby fire escape and climb fast, putting some height between us. If she canât reach the rooftops, thatâs an advantage Iâm keeping. From above, I keep my eyes on her movements.
âOkay, youâre angry. Good. Stay focused on me.â
I mutter and wave an arm to make sure I have her attention. Then I move farther along the rooftop. If sheâs only chasing me, I can keep her away from everyone else while I figure out how to help her. Right now, thatâs the priority.
The arm wave was met with a half-accidental mag burst as XANA tried to throw lightning at Batgirl, only for it to present unexpectedly to them. Sonari's entire body glowed with a turquoise aura before a beam of same-colored energy jolted upwards and arched. By then, the distance was too great for the mag burst to touch Batgirl so it was drawn to the rungs of the fire escape instead and pulled uselessly on it. If it had touched Batgirl, the energy could have pulled her over the roof ledge. XANA roared; frustrated that their powers behaved differently in this host body. Though they would find it interesting in hindsight. Sonari chased after Batgirl and searched for a way to reach her.
The fire escape jerks hard enough to make me stop in my tracks.
âOkay⌠thatâs not lightning.â
I glance down at the bent metal, then back at Sonari. Whatever hit it was trying to pull, not blast. I immediately move away from anything metal near the roofâs edge.
âSo thatâs how your powers work.â
I keep running across the rooftops, making sure I stay just far enough ahead to hold her attention without giving her another easy shot.
âIf youâre making me your target, then weâre doing this away from everyone else.â
Idk if I'm being overly cautious but I saw a car stop and turn its headlights off at the corner while I was walking tonight. I waited to see if anyone would step out but no one did so they clearly weren't parking. When I sused that out I turned and walked away, glancing back at them occasionally, while I was still several yards out of reach. They wound up driving right past afterwards. I think they may have been trying to catch me off guard and decided to leave me alone when they realized I wasn't.
Hey Anon! Trusting your gut isnât being âoverly cautiousâ. If something feels off, itâs okay to put some distance between yourself and it. And thatâs exactly what you did. So well done!
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it wasnât. The important part is you didnât stick around trying to find out. You changed direction, kept an eye on what was happening and stayed far enough away that nobody could surprise you. Thatâs some smart move.
If something like that happens again, head toward somewhere with people or lights if you can, and donât worry about looking weird. Your safetyâs worth way more than a strangerâs opinion.
Iâm glad you got home safe, Anon. Iâd rather hear someone say âturns out I was being extra carefulâ than âwish Iâd listened to my instinctsâ.
